Bruce Spohn was born March 5th 1947 in Lancaster, California near Los Angeles. His parents moved north to the Bay Area and he attended K-12 in a number of schools in different cities around the Bay. This laid the foundation of his outlook on life. After graduating from Clayton Valley High School in Concord California he joined the U. S. Air Force. After basic training in Lackland AFB in San Antonio, Texas he was sent to Germany Oct 1965. Like many Americans assigned to Germany he fell in love and married. While living in Germany he left the Air Force in 1968. He continued to work for the military as a civilian and later enlisted in the U.S. Army in 1980 and in 1994 he retired from the Army. Life in Europe appealed to him and he stayed in Germany after retirement and spent a total of 40 years living in Germany. Finally he returned to the United States Feb 2006. As luck would have it he was sent back to San Antonio, Texas where he works for the Government at Fort Sam Houston.
Bruce started writing when he was still in high school but never published. While serving in the Military and later as a DoD civilian Bruce started writing articles for the Army Post News Paper in Heidleberg Germany. In Nov 1999 he was involved in a near fatal car accident and woke up in the ICU a few days before Christmas. He felt inspired to write a story to send to his friends as a special Christmas gift. He continues to write and has a collection Christmas stories that are published under the title “Christmas Treasures”.
Paul stood by the open tent flap, taking a few minutes to enjoy the beautiful gifts nature provided him for free. Looking to the eastern shore, he marveled at the red, orange and yellow explosion of pre-dawn glory heralding a new day. Low on the Western horizon, the nearly full moon lay pale and bloated. In the aerie pre-dawn light a heavy dew clinging to everything that did not move seemed somehow phosphorescent. The fre...
When I was young I used to have so much fun Not knowing what part I would have in life's play Happiness is gone. . .I now carry a gun And my thoughts settle about me, like ashes in wet clayI saw John, today, catch a bullet and die He was married, and I think he had a kid Hope they can find time to stop awhile to cry, . . .and remember all of the good things he didJohn died today, and tomorrow I may die Or did I die last w...
As I view the world through the prism of my mind I see what life's made of, and I wish I were blind Nobody is happy, and those that say they are Have a mind that's torn, twisted, with a social scarThe beat goes on ... the war goes on ... But can life go on? The world is a chess board and I am but a pawn Could this hourglass, known as time, run out of sand? How much sand is left, enough to fill up my hand?Or does everythin...